


you're in the mood for a dance

by writing_addict



Series: fullmetal alchemist musical aus [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Mamma Mia! (Movies)
Genre: (Slightly?), Alternate Universe - Mamma Mia! Fusion, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Best Friends, DANCING QUEEN SCENE, Dancing and Singing, Donna And The Dynamos, Epic Friendship, Female Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Musicals, One Shot, Out of Character, Past Relationship(s), Sort Of, The Author Regrets Nothing, Wedding Planning, Why Did I Write This?, correction: we die like donna sheridan because there is no man stronger than that woman, gracia is rosie, no beta we die like men, rebecca is tanya, riza is donna, there is no friendship more epic than donna tanya and rosie can we agree on that, this is absolutely the dumbest thing ive ever written, u r the dancing queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 04:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_addict/pseuds/writing_addict
Summary: Riza Hawkeye's past comes back to haunt her when the three potential fathers of her twins show up at her eldest son's wedding. Luckily, her best friends are there to help her get her groove back, and remind Riza that you're never too old to be the dancing queen.Or:it's a mamma mia au. suffer.





	you're in the mood for a dance

**Author's Note:**

> MAMMA MIA AU, DAMNIT. riza is donna, rebecca is tanya, gracia is rosie. ed and al both take different aspects of sophie's character, and roy is sam, maes is bill, and hohenheim is harry. this is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“It’s their dad.”

There they were—the three words Riza Hawkeye _never_ wanted to have to say, least of all to her two best friends in the world. Friends she hadn’t seen in _eight freaking years,_ for God’s sake, friends she wanted a chance to reconnect with before going through with this whole wedding nonsense, and here she was whining like she was twenty again. Absolutely _ridiculous._ She had a taverna to run and an island to make famous so she wouldn’t have to scare the bank manager into submission again (and so she could fully pay for this _goddamn motherfucking wedding_ rather than relying on Winry Rockbell’s parents, which burned her pride more than she cared to admit). She _certainly_ should not be sulking up here like some _child,_ hiding from the ghosts of her past and the ramifications of their simultaneous visit. Oh, _God,_ the twins would _lose their minds_ if they found out…

“ _Whose_ dad?” Rebecca yawned, peering into the mirror as though it held all the secrets of the world. Riza wished it did; maybe then she’d be able to figure out what the hell to do about… _this._ God knew her friends would have wildly conflicting advice when it came to this situation. Rebecca Catalina was _not_ known for subtlety or appropriate behavior in general, and Gracia “Lone Wolf” Goode would probably fight each one of them individually. It was what had made them such a dynamic team twenty-one years ago, she thought wistfully, back when the three of them had been _Riza and the Radicals_ rather than the overworked owner and manager of the Summer Night Taverna, a thrice-married thrice-divorced self-proclaimed “seductress”, and a travelling writer with a bestselling cookbook.

Sometimes—only _sometimes—_ she missed it, missed traveling the world and running wild with them, missed performing in the nightclubs on the mainland and feeling like the world was hers for the taking. On her worst days, she wondered what would happen if she just took off. Most of the time, though, there was nowhere else she’d rather be but _here,_ making her dream for this place a reality and spending time with her boys.

Today, though, definitely counted as one of the worst days in a long, long while. Riza grimaced, slumping in the chair before the vanity as Gracia rummaged through the trunk at the foot of her bed (she didn’t pay it much mind; she’d long since gotten used to the absolute lack of personal space between the three of them). “Ed and Al’s. He’s here.”

Gracia gasped behind her as Rebecca’s jaw dropped, rushing to her side. Riza covered her face with groan as she hissed, “The _twins’ dad—_ you mean that Roy Mustang guy?”

“Oh, what a _dreamboat,”_ Rebecca drawled, draping herself over the back of Riza’s chair. “Eyes like night skies in hell, and those _shoulders…”_ She made a horrible sort of growl, shimmying, before hissing as Gracia (thank _God_ for her one sensible friend, honestly) elbowed her. _“Ow!”_

“Please, _please_ don’t remind me.” She peeked out from between her fingers, staring at her reflection. Brown eyes, blonde hair, still as goddamn exhausted as she looked when she came in. _More,_ if she was being entirely honest. “And, well—yes, he’s _here.”_ And she’d nearly had a goddamn _heart attack_ when she saw him sitting in the bar, laughing and bickering with goddamn _Hughes_ and annoying “Headbanger” with every flash of that shockingly sweet smile. Riza sighed and slumped forward. “But…he’s not the only one.”

“Not the only one,” Gracia repeated. Riza didn’t have to look to know she was doing her very impressive “raised eyebrows” routine, the one that had twisted so many secrets out of both her and Rebecca before. “As in…there’s _more?”_

Oh, joy, here they go. She knew they wouldn’t _shame_ her for it, wouldn’t guilt her or be _assholes_ about it (the bond of the world’s first girl power band went a hell of a lot deeper than that, she should hope), but it still was far from fun to explain and… _remember_ it. “I told you that it was Mustang,” she began. “You know, the architect—the one who had to go home to get married—”

“Bastard,” Rebecca muttered.

“Typical man,” Gracia agreed.

Riza snorted, grateful despite everything for their input, unchanging even after so many years apart. God, why had they ever stayed apart for those eight years? Then again, maybe it was for the best—Ed and Al were enough trouble through their teens without two doting, equally troublesome aunts egging them on. “Well, I’m not _entirely_ sure that it was him, because there were two other…” She grimaced against the thought, making a gruesome face at herself in the mirror. “Two other guys around the same time.”

She waited a moment before daring to look up—and saw, to her horror, both of her best friends grinning downright _maniacally_ at her. _“Riza Hawkeye,_ you dark horse!” Rebecca _squealed._

Riza yelped as Gracia dropped the feather boa—why had she _kept_ that damn thing—around her shoulders, throwing on the old orange one she’d loved, her old friend grinning down at her. “Why didn’t you _tell_ us? That summer was already _wild,_ but _now…”_

“Now it’s _legendary!”_ Rebecca howled, arms thrown out wide, and Riza yelped and ducked as she spun in place. “But really, why _didn’t_ you tell us, Ri?”

“I never knew that I’d _have_ to, you know?” She threw up her hands in exasperation, sneezing as the damn _boa_ tickled her nose. Next thing she knew and they’d be digging out their old Radicals gear, and the _poster…_ she’d really been a reckless little idiot back then, had she? Even if it _had_ been the time of her life. “I certainly never imagined I’d see _all three of them—_ ” all sitting and talking together, too, as if they _knew_ each other— “in my bar before my son’s wedding!” A wedding that was coming on pretty damn fast, that she wasn’t sure if Ed even actually _wanted_ (she knew full well that Winry would have rather done it on the mainland with a couple of witnesses before traveling the world, actually _approved_ that plan)—a wedding that was _tomorrow._

_Oh, this is going to be_ awful…

“The bar?”

Riza’s eyes widened as Gracia and Rebecca exchanged glances before rushing for the door, stumbling over each other. “Oh, no—” _Oh, damnit, damnit, damnit, why did I tell them?_ She sprang to her feet, sprinting after them. “Rebecca, Gracia, don’t you _dare_ let them see you!” _Gotta hurry gotta hurry why are my friends the absolute_ worst—

There was a yelp and a thud, and she burst out of the door to see Gracia sprawled awkwardly on the ground, Rebecca teetering unsteadily on the edge of the stairs before reeling back and thudding to the floor with a shriek. Panic turned rapidly to relief and she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms and glaring at them. “Some friends you are. Serves you right.”

“It’s her damn stilettos,” Gracia muttered, pushing herself to her feet as Rebecca chucked one of the offending shoes at the wall—and left a dent in the _brand new plaster._ It was Riza’s turn to shriek—great, _another_ argument with the bank—and Rebecca’s to wince, before Gracia cackled at the sight, swanning back into Riza’s room and giving her a friendly nudge on the way. “Have one of her billionaire exes pay for it, Ri!”

“Aw, honey, I _spent_ their millions. You think this face was naturally this perfect?” Rebecca tossed her hair, but squeezed Riza’s hand in apology as she followed. “I’m sure I can cough something up, though.”

“You’d _better,”_ she grumbled, following after them and kicking the door closed. It didn’t creak obnoxiously this time, and she couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief as she locked it behind them. Break one thing, fix another. It wasn’t like she hadn’t dented the plaster a dozen times herself. “But they’re all there, having a _grand_ old time and scaring me to death—”

Rebecca hummed thoughtfully, perching on the edge of her bed as Gracia went back to pawing through the trunk. “Are you sure?”

Was she sure? Was she _sure?_ She’d gone down there and made a complete fool of herself in front of the locals, her staff, and _all three of her sons’ dads!_ That was about as sure as it got, right? “Like I could forget them,” she said indignantly, dropping into the chair before the vanity again. “They were all there, the bastards. Roy Mustang, Maes Hughes—hell, even Von ‘Headbanger.’” Though the latter had looked much less _spontaneous_ than she remembered—but then again, she was certainly no frontwoman and rock chick extraordinaire anymore either. They’d all grown up.

And—though she hated to admit, especially when she knew full well she was thinking of _Roy—_ some of them had grown up quite nicely. It was absolutely horrible. How dare he waltz back in here with that charismatic smile and that boundless energy and those beautiful eyes? It was completely unfair and she most _definitely_ wasn’t prepared and if she wasn’t busy making sure her eldest-by-six-minutes would have a wedding every bit as beautiful as he desired, she’d go kick his ass for it right now.

“I remember Hughes,” Gracia said suddenly. Riza peered over her shoulder to find her in a floppy hat that matched the orange boa, a giant white feather like something out of a bad pirate movie sticking out of it. There was a downright _dreamy_ look in her eyes and—oh, _right,_ she’d had a crush on him after Riza’s fling and amicable-parting-as-friends. She stamped down the beginnings of mischief bubbling in her chest at the thought; she was a grown woman now and had _no time_ for such shenanigans. “He was…something _else.”_

“I think you called him _one hefty slice of beefcake_ back in the day, darling,” Rebecca drawled, now sprawled dramatically across Riza’s bed. Gracia smacked her shoulder indignantly and she yelped. “What? Don’t shoot the messenger!”

“Either way, it’s all very _Greek.”_ Riza scowled at the unrepentant Gracia, who flopped melodramatically on the bed beside Rebecca, flinging a hand across her brow like some distraught maiden. Which was supremely ironic _,_ because if there was one person in this room the _least_ likely to play the role of the distraught maiden, it was her. “Do they know?”

Know? God, what a nightmare _that_ would have been, hunting them each down and telling them they _might_ be the father of her twins—especially when one was getting married, the other was sailing off to who-knew-where, and the last was in the middle of college? No, telling them had been completely out of the question then, and was completely out of the question now. “ _Hell_ no. I’ve never told a soul until today.”

Rebecca made a vaguely sympathetic noise, reaching out to her with one perfectly manicured hand. “Oh, darling Riza, keeping it to yourself all these years…”

They were worried…about what it had done to _her._ Not about the three men downstairs, oblivious to the fact that the two golden-haired children roaming the island could be any one of theirs, not about their nephews, happily preparing for the rest of their lives without this bombshell dropping in on them. About _her,_ and the heartache that silence had caused her—and there had been _plenty_ of heartache, every time Ed had come home in grade school suspended for punching someone who’d made fun of his mother, every time Al had quietly asked why most of the other kids had two parents, every time she couldn’t give them the answers they deserved.

All this time, and their first priorities were still each other.

It was…nice. More than nice, but she couldn’t let herself think too hard on it or she’d get ridiculously weepy. “It doesn’t matter,” she declared brusquely as her best friends got to their feet again, coming to stand on either side of her. “What matters is that they’ve shown up the night before Ed’s _wedding_ , all three of them, and they’re out there _in my house_ as _customers—_ hell, I can’t even turn them away!” _We need all the tourists we can get, nightmares from the past or not. God knows this place needs whatever funds I can get it._ “What have they ever done for their kids, huh?”

“To be fair,” Rebecca offered hesitantly, “they didn’t exactly know the twins existed, Riza.”

“And they didn’t need to!” Oh, she sounded ridiculous, she sounded _so stupid,_ but goddamnit, she needed to rant and rant she would. “I’ve done a damn good job with Ed and Al all by myself and now I’m going to be muscled out by an—an ejaculation!”

“That’s _not_ going to happen,” Gracia declared, and Riza hissed as the floppy hat her friend had been wearing moments before dropped atop her head. “First of all, Ed would punch them all if they tried, and then _I_ would punch them all, and Al would come up with some subtle revenge that would send them fleeing for the hills. They love you too much to ever let anyone replace you, Riza.”

“Where am I in this revenge plot?” Rebecca demanded.

“Drinking a margarita and laughing at the boys as they run from their own children.”

“Good. Carry on.”

_And now they’re getting off topic. Wonderful, fantastic, my life is a_ dream— “Fantastical revenge plots aside,” Riza snapped, glaring up at them, “they’re still _here._ They’re on this island and they’re just a flight of stairs away and I don’t know _why,_ and I’ve brought this all on myself because I was a stupid, reckless little slut!” The outburst left her seeing spots and she exhaled roughly, slumping back against the chair and peering up from under the brim of the hat.

Gracia and Rebecca were…gaping at her. “You sound _just_ like your father!” Rebecca gasped, sounding somewhere between horrified and morbidly delighted, as though she’d just found proof of some terrible thing.

The words were terrible thing _enough,_ and Riza bolted upright as they glanced at each other, wide-eyed. “I do _not!”_

“Yes, you do!”

Riza stared at them incredulously. _Did_ she sound like her father? God, what a nightmare of a day. “Oh, my God, I do not.”

“You do, it’s Catholic guilt!” Rebecca argued. “No wonder you’ve exiled yourself out here—you’ve been living like a nun, Riza, don’t deny it.”

“Yeah, whatever happened to _our_ Riza?” Gracia chimed. “Life and soul of the party, _el rock chick supremo!”_ She mimed a truly wild, terrible air guitar solo as Rebecca whooped, doing some horrible approximation of one of their old dances, before shrieking at some apparent, sudden realization and rushing back over to the trunk, dragging out…an old cassette player and a tape? Rebecca followed, peering over her shoulder, before squealing and bouncing up and down in excitement as Gracia fiddled with it, like they were no more than twenty again.

Riza stared at them before shaking her head, beating down the wistfulness that tugged at her chest. “I grew up.”

They blinked at her—before bursting out _laughing_. “Well, then, grow back down again!” Rebecca called over her shoulder, flinging some ruffle-y capelet thing out of the trunk and over her shoulders as the faint strains of music began to wind through the air— _familiar_ music. The same music they’d covered and sang as…

Oh. Oh, no.

Gracia’s cackle was nothing short of _evil_ as she turned the music on the cassette player all the way up, before tossing it onto the bed and grabbing a hairbrush. Riza’s eyes widened as she struck the familiar pose—head thrown back, back arched, hairbrush-microphone tilted down as if poised to sing. _“For one night!”_

Rebecca punched the air before scrambling into position beside her, the first verse of _Dancing Queen_ beginning to play. Riza’s foot began tapping against her will, wistfulness turning to excitement as the familiar energy began to fill her. _“And one night only!”_

No. No, she had to be an adult, she couldn’t do this, this was _ridiculous…_

_“You can dance, you can jive…”_

…Hell, what could it hurt. One final hurrah before her eldest became a man and drifted too far away to see that his worker-bee dork of a mother had been an absolute badass once, right? And besides…

Riza laughed as she shouldered her way between them, grabbing the curling iron off the vanity and raising her hand in the air. _“Riza and the Radicals!”_

She really had missed this.

_Having the time of your life, ooooo~_

_See that girl, watch that scene, diggin’ the dancing queen..._

**Author's Note:**

> i would love it if y'all left kudos or comments but you people have thumbs you'll do what you want


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